"So, after the Great Serpent devoured Rykard, you fled down the volcano with the other guests?"
"Along the way, I met up with the members of my own knightly order." Raven leaned back in his chair. "But the volcanic region was in total chaos, and the suspects we had delivered to the manor used the confusion to stage a prison break. We decided to return to the Royal Capital as quickly as possible to report the events."
"As quickly as possible? By that, do you mean stopping by your own fiefdom to imprison two knights, spending half a month sightseeing in your territory, and then arriving in the Capital?"
Crepus's voice was dry, dripping with sarcasm.
"You flatter me." Raven remained perfectly composed. "Suppressing a rebellion in my territory and maintaining the stability of the Golden Lineage's rule is my duty. To prevent future uprisings, I surveyed the maps of my lands and guided the people in restoring production. Though time was tight, I could only do my best."
"Raven of Caria," said the head of the Confessors, Crepus of the Black Key, as he leaned forward. "I suggest you start being a bit more cooperative."
"Am I not sitting here quite calmly?"
"We have already identified most of the guests invited by Rykard, and we have arrested and interrogated many of them. Lord Radagon has already led a great army toward the volcano. In a few days, the volcanic rebels will be wiped out, and the truth of what happened will be laid bare."
"And your point is?"
"Do you see the items on the wall behind me?" Crepus's bloodless, pale lips moved like two cold, wet worms. "You might only recognize some of them. I can introduce you to the function of each one, one by one."
"If you intend to use those on a demigod," Raven sighed, glancing at the bizarre array of torture devices hanging on the wall, "I'm afraid I'll have to exercise my right to infinite self-defense and slaughter you right here. To be honest, I've actually quite enjoyed our chat."
Crepus's gaze flickered to the hilt of the sword at Raven's waist. Radagon had already left the Capital; although Crepus had arrested Raven, he didn't even have the authority to disarm him without the explicit permission of Queen Marika.
"Very well," Crepus said with a cold sneer. "I hope you can maintain this bravado tomorrow at the Roundtable Hold."
"You'll see for yourself tomorrow." Raven shrugged and stood up to leave the interrogation room.
The next day, Crepus escorted Raven into the grand hall of the Roundtable Hold.
Less than fifteen minutes later, the head of the Confessors walked back out with Raven, his face a ghastly shade of iron-blue.
"How is this possible?" Crepus hissed through gritted teeth. "The Goddess actually believes it was you who exposed the volcanic conspiracy... and she even rewarded you..."
"Praise the Goddess; her gaze pierces through all things," Raven said solemnly, making the sign of the Erdtree over his chest. He then asked, "Mr. Crepus, why didn't I see the Golden Prince just now?"
"His Highness is busy dealing with matters in the Subterranean Shunning-Grounds. He has no time for the likes of you." Crepus spat out the words and turned away.
News of what had transpired at the Roundtable meeting quickly spread through the circles of the powerful. Everyone was whispering about Queen Marika's blatant favoritism toward Raven. Two days later, when Raven was granted the privilege of free entry to the court for his "merit" in exposing the rebellion, the gossip reached a fever pitch.
For a time, the hosts of almost every high-society banquet felt honored if they could secure Raven's attendance. Tales of "Raven of Caria" became a fashionable topic among noblewomen and young ladies alike.
Compared to the Carians, the aristocrats of the Royal Capital were far more extravagant and decadent, viewing anyone from outside the Altus Plateau as a country bumpkin. Some nobles intentionally tried to embarrass Raven, but he handled every situation with ease and wit. In the end, it was the "Carian Style" brought by this foreign prince that sparked a trend followed by many young nobles.
Swordsmanship, horsemanship, tactical wargaming, political commentary... Raven excelled in everything. As a demigod, his memory far exceeded that of ordinary men. Having spent years immersed in the Grand Library of Raya Lucaria, he could cite historical anecdotes and literary classics at will, and even offered profound insights into Golden Order Fundamentalism.
A Fire Prelate once came to his door to debate theology. No outsiders knew the details of the debate, but when the Prelate walked out of Raven's manor, he had lost all his composure. The outcome was obvious. Surprisingly, the Prelate bore no grudge; instead, he frequently invited Raven to preach to the monks, a story that became a popular anecdote in the city.
One evening, Raven emerged from the mansion of General Connaught. It was already quite late. Entering the carriage specifically prepared by the host, he let out a long sigh.
He had no real interest in these social gatherings, but they were indeed an effective way to expand his influence. After half a month of networking, he had gained a deeper understanding of the Capital's intricate web of relationships.
Beneath the peaceful surface of the Capital, an undercurrent was flowing. These salons and balls weren't enough to truly grasp its trajectory, but Godwyn seemed to be at the very center of it.
Finding a pink envelope on the seat, he picked it up and saw it was from the General's daughter. He rubbed the letter between his fingers, and the envelope turned to ash in a spark of red lightning.
"Next time, I really have to find a way to bring Lansseax along," he grumbled. "I'm sick of these acne-faced idiots throwing their gloves at my face."
Initially, he had brought Lansseax as his companion. Her sheer, predatory aura had scared off many women, serving her purpose well. Unfortunately, she quickly lost interest in such occasions, complaining that the drinks and snacks weren't filling enough, making it hard to drag her out again.
Stepping down from the carriage, Raven walked into his manor and heard an unfamiliar female voice coming from Rya's room.
"Good girl, open wide. Aaaah... Your oral hygiene is excellent, and your teeth are very straight. There's just a little inflammation here in the gums."
Startled, Raven pushed the door open to find Rya in her man-serpent form, sitting obediently on the bed, letting a white-robed Perfumer examine her.
"Who are you?" Raven took a step forward. Rya's serpent form had been seen by a stranger; if word got out and someone linked her to the Man-Serpents of the volcano, it would be a significant problem.
"Hey, you're finally back! This is Miss Tricia, my good friend," Lansseax said cheerfully. "She came to visit me, and since Rya mentioned a toothache, I asked her to take a look. Don't worry, she won't go blabbing about it."
Raven relaxed slightly. Lansseax could be flighty with small things, but she would never make a mistake concerning Rya's safety. She had a miraculous intuition for people; if she believed this Perfumer was trustworthy, then there was truly no issue.
"Hello, Miss Tricia," Raven said. "I've heard Lansseax mention you. I heard you provide treatment for many Misbegotten and Omen-born, and that you are a highly skilled and respectable physician."
"No, I'm just..." A flush appeared on Tricia's pockmarked face. She was a girl with a round face and brown hair braided down to her waist. Her appearance wasn't stunning, but she possessed an approachable air that likely made her very popular with small animals.
"I am just an ordinary Perfumer; my medical skills aren't that high," she finally said. "Thank you for your recognition. As I thought, the Carians do not discriminate against the Omen and the Misbegotten."
Raven ruffled Rya's head and stood up. "You're here for Lansseax, aren't you? I won't disturb you."
"No, I actually came to visit you this time." Tricia gave Raven a serious bow. "Although it is a presumptuous request, I have no one else to turn to. I hope you can extend a helping hand to the Misbegotten and Omen-born in the sewers."
"Hmm, do you mean financial support?" Raven nodded. He certainly wasn't short on money. Even setting aside the income from his fief, as a Carian royal, he could get a massive amount of funding just by writing a letter to his mother. Helping the residents of the sewers improve their lives wouldn't be difficult.
"How much do you need? I'd be happy to help," Raven smiled. "By the way, no need for formalities. Lansseax's friend is my friend."
"No, no, it's not money," Tricia waved her hands frantically. "They can support themselves. It's like this..."
As Raven listened to Tricia's stuttering description, he began to understand the situation.
Three years ago, deep within the sewers, a natural fissure torn by a tree root was discovered. it led to a vast space supported by the roots of the Erdtree. Because of its proximity to the Erdtree, the soil there was fertile, and the environment was incredibly pleasant.
The residents living in the sewers were ecstatic and immediately began a large-scale migration, driving out the Giant Ants, tilling the land, and establishing a residential area. News of this slowly leaked out, becoming an urban legend among the common folk.
Runaway serfs, craftsmen in debt, bankrupt small merchants—many who were at the end of their rope entered the sewers in desperation, seeking this legendary utopia.
"We call it the Deeproot Depths. There are no heavy taxes, no corvée labor, and no oppression based on rank," Tricia said happily. "Everyone has found a new life there, helping one another and building their own lives."
Raven recalled the information Crepus had mentioned. "And then, the Golden Lineage discovered your secret?"
"Yes," Tricia became dejected. "Prince Godwyn believes the faith of the Frenzied Flame is spreading in the sewers. During the investigation, they happened to notice the existence of the Deeproot Depths."
"Happened to...?" Raven said thoughtfully. "It's impossible to hide something like that from the Golden Lineage for three years. Most likely, someone was covering for you before. The Golden Lineage won't allow such a piece of land to go uncontrolled. What are they saying now? Do they want to tax you, or what?"
"The Golden Lineage wants to evict us all from the Deeproot Depths," Tricia said, her fingers twisting her robe. "The Roundtable discussed it and concluded that we are all criminals, and that many Frenzied Flame believers are likely mixed in among us. They absolutely refuse to let us live near the roots of the Erdtree..."
"Sorry, let me interrupt," Raven asked suddenly. "How do you know the contents of the Roundtable meeting?"
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Elden Ring: The Unborn One's Journey Through Elden Ring(161 Chapter - Ongoing)
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